Every year, first week August, I wake up at 6 am sharp, slather on that sunscreen, find my camelpak (fill it with ice and water of course), roll down my windows, put my sunglasses on, and feel the wind in my hair as I drive down to my school for band camp. It's always the same- new faces and old acquaintances gather together with one common love- music. It's different this year. I woke up on my birthday and thought to myself, wow, this is the first year that I don't have to march on my birthday! At first I was excited, no marching band forever, but that feeling slowly faded into nostalgia. No more bus rides, no more Friday nights in that red wool coat which we call a uniform, and most of all no more laughter with my friends, making jokes about other bands and how their show can't compare to ours. Goodbye Centennial band... ):
